Fen'harel and Little Red
by Narya's Bane
Summary: Starts shortly after discovering Skyhold. The Inquisitor tells stories no Keeper would dare remember, but only when pushed. Solas finds himself spellbound and has to know more. Yes, spoilers for Solas' story.
1. Hello Little Girl

The following is a one-shot taking place in Inquisition with elven rogue Lavellan during a romance with Solas.

Very heavy spoilers- obviously.

\- * l " 9

Fen'vhenan Lavellan was still strange to Solas. He was with her consistently, his barriers important enough to her that she seemed unable to go anywhere without him, yet every day she surprised him. He wondered at how she saw things. Oh her marks may have given her to Falon'din, but her spirit was obviously meant for Fen'harel.

Tonight they sat at a campfire in the Exalted Plains, making camp before exploring the area fully. It was a lovely evening, one meant for sitting and telling tales. Varric had been happy to oblige, but his was not the only voice meant for stories in this group. He and Vhen had been taking turns all night while Solas and the Iron Bull listened in wonder. Varric told of current events, what he had seen and the grand adventures of Thedas. Lavellan showed her spirit, telling older tales- though not the versions Solas had heard from the Dalish. Hers were challenging, and (if Solas was being generous in his assessment) closer to the truth than most of the Keepers he had heard.

The night had grown late, but the fire was going strong. Varric wound up,a tale and looked to Vhen. "Your turn, Wolfy." The nickname had arisen one day after she had scared a pack off in her own. It grated on Solas, but she seemed to grin and chuckle every time it was spoken.

"It's pretty late," the Dalish protested. "We should probably stop."

"One more, boss" Bull begged.

Fen'vhenan sighed. "One more. Any suggestion?"

Varric thought. "You spoke about that one figure before. The trickster..."

"Fen'harel," Vhen provided. "I... you'll have to pardon me. Dalish don't speak of him much. Not even the name."

"My apologies..."

"I'm not a normal Dalish," Vhen reminded. Then, slower, "You want a story of the wolf I was named after?"

Solas blinked. "Your name is taken from the elven god of treachery?"

Vhen nodded, looking at him closely. "My father was Fen'assan- the wolf's arrow. I was meant to be the heart of the wolf, though my keeper always laughed and called me wolf-hearted." She smiled, biting her bottom lip. "I know the tale for tonight.

"There was a girl who lived with her clan happily, growing up with the bow and the hunters. She loved her mother and her father, and her sisters. The girl adored her family and offered thanks daily for them.

"Just after her eighth birthday, the girl was in the forest when her brother fell from a tree. She was scared and reached to help him, healing his scrapes and revealing she had magic. Her family was devastated, as there were already four mages in the clan. So the girl cried and cried, begging for aide.

"The girl asked Dirthamen to keep her secret, to no avail. She begged Sylaise to let her keep her family. She made promises to Elgar'nan and Mythal should they allow her to remain. None of them answered.

"The day came when the girl was to leave the clan. Her mother took her hand before she left and told her the route to a woman in the woods who she had been told would take care of her daughter. Sad, upset, the child went into the woods and cried as she wandered down the path. And as she did she begged for the Dread Wolf to take her, since she no longer wanted to live. And she followed the directions on her route. All she had was a basket of provisions and a red cape her mother had given her to remember them by.

"As the girl was walking a man approached from the woods. 'Where are you going?' he asked her, smiling at her. 'I'm going to live with an old woman in the wilds,' she replied. When he asked the location that he may see her safely there, she told him, having no reason to lie.

"What the girl could not know was that his man was Fen'harel, there to assess her wish and give her what her heart truly desired. He had her scent and knew her name. As the girl went into the wilds further, the Wolf rushed ahead and found the old woman she was guided to.

"Fen'harel found the woman cruel and cold, a powerful witch who would end the girls life, so instead of leaving the woman he gobbled her up- a mercy so that she would not hurt the child. Soon the girl came. Not wanting to show his cruel justice to a faint heart he hid his form and made his voice as the old witch.

"The girl asked many questions, and he answered all in his fashion. Fen'harel is swift to think after all, and lies come easy to his tongue. Yet the girl was dismayed and wary..."

Solas realized as she halted the story that he was leaning forward, drawn in and actually eager for the end even as he feared it.

"What happened then, boss?" Bull asked, as entranced as the others.

Fen'vhenan smiled and answered. "To this day nobody knows what question little red asked that the Dread Wolf could not lie. Yet she did find one, and he revealed himself to her. And the girl cried, thinking he would end her life when she truly just wished to be home. Instead... he took her in his own fashion. He removed the magic, claiming it as his own, and she was able to return to the clan."

Silence reigned over the campfire. "So he helped her?" Varric asked. "No price?"

Vhenan shrugged, looking across the fire. "Some Dalish would say he had her scent, and that was price enough."

The dwarf seemed troubled. "You've spoken of Fen'harel before, you said he always demands a price," he pressed.

Solas watched as Vhen stood. "Then hers was lost to history. Excuse me." And so speaking she left, walking to her tent.

It was thirty minutes later the elven girl heard a rustle outside her tent and the flap opened. Solas entered, puzzled.

"Your story was new to me," he admitted. "The other Dalish do not seem to speak of it. I would like to know the real ending."

Vhen hung her head and sighed. "Of course you would pick up on that. The others don't need the tale." She met his eyes, feeling somehow that she was drawn to tell him the truth. "The girl was returned, and proved she no longer had magic, but the clan would not take her. Her family shunned her. This too Fen'harel had anticipated, and as she left again he whispered in her ear that she was his. Clanless, alone, she worked as his will- truly taken by the Dread Wolf."

Solas blinked. "That... is how it is spoken?"

Vhen nodded. "It is. It isn't often stated if she was happy, but... She was truly free. I like to think she was."

"Free? She was bound!"

"Maybe. Or maybe the Wolf cares about his charges, and she was clan to him. Perhaps he considered her his lethallan." Vhen stretched a bit, closing her eyes briefly. "At any rate, she eventually found a mate and when she had children passed the skills she learned to them. But never again magic. It was lost to her line."

Solas saw a smile on her face, thin but noticeable. "You are from her line."

Fen'vhenan nodded. "That I am. Supposedly, at least." She chuckled a bit. "Who knows if there is anything to the legend."

Solas had to bite his tongue from saying there was. He knew; he remembered the startled child well. She was nothing like the calm, ruthless Vhenan he saw fight demons. The child must have taken her duty quite seriously after he helped her in the Fade and spoke to her afterwards.

A blade. He had demanded she become a weapon. As a woman she must have asked the same of her children. The result was...

Stunning.

"Sleep well then, da'lana," Solas teased.

"Da'lana?" Vhen asked, curious.

Solas blushed. "Little red. I thought it appropriate for the red-caped figure you described."

"Da'lana," Lavellan repeated, smiling. "So it is." She ran a finger through her own red hair. "If you must then."

~ I'd rather call you lethallan. ~

Solas banished the thought as it appeared, looking at her a moment before retiring.

When Fen'vhenan's birthday came weeks later she was surprised to find a package on the chair at the head of the breakfast table. Unwrapping it, she found a brilliant red cloak lined with grey fur. Wolf fur, she caught. She smiled at the gift, wondering who had made it appear, until her eyes wandered down the table to the elven apostate near the opposite end. He caught her gaze and smirked knowingly.

She swore, he could be as unreadable as the Dread Wolf.


	2. Dragon in Me

Wow.

Since it was asked so nicely...yes, I'll expand. That was unexpected. I'm going to post this as a series of one-shots, so will keep in completed status.

*musical inspiration can be gathered from the song noted in chapter titles*

\- end A/N -

Most would have considered Fen'vhenan a tiny Dalish slip of an elf. Solas had a hard time accepting her at first not only because of the markings on her face, but because it was impossible to link the small stature and snarky wit with the absolute ferocity in each step. At least until it was seen. Then she became da'mi, the little blade, in whole.

It was beautiful. And all-together frightening.

There was a reason the Inquisition was feared by its enemies. Nothing seemed to best the girl regardless who traveled at her side. Solas knew she was disappointed at not finding a suitable nemesis outside some long-dead darkspawn magister, and was disturbed that since Haven she seemed anxious to fight him again. Then something else revealed itself. The first time they came across a dragon, Solas was concerned. Not because he had any fear of it, because he saw the glint in her clear green eyes that was mirrored in The Iron Bull. She had GIGGLED at the dragon, and turned to the rest of the group expectantly.

"Tell me we get to kill it," The Iron Bull pleaded.

"I don't think that is wise..." Solas started. Then he saw Vhen's grin. "Vhenan." The scold was as childish as her desire.

Unfortunately Lavellan had a perfectly reasonable response prepared. "Did you want to leave the Redcliffe villagers to fight it?"

"Strategy?" Solas asked, coming to terms with the fact they would be hunting this thing.

Vhenan shrugged. "Well my strategy is going to put very sharp pointy things in the fleshy parts. I imagine The Iron Bull has a similar plan." When the qunari nodded, the elf stretched briefly before dashing towards the dragon's nest with a shout of, "You and Dorian will be better suited using magic, but if you wish to randomly start shooting a bow that is your prerogative." Solas sighed, turning to Dorian. The two mages came to a silent accord that their companions were crazy before they followed.

That night, the quartet were cleaned up an sitting by the fire of their campsite. As was usual Vhen crouched over the firelight with the evening's meal sizzling over. She had ignored Bull's suggestion they find out what dragon meat tastes like and instead snuck up on some very surprised rams to get what was needed for a workable stew. Added to some roots it worked well with the waybread they'd brought from Skyhold.

It was as Vhen was crouched over the flames The Iron Bull jovially asked, "So what does your Dread Wolf say about dragon killing?"

Solas choked on the water he'd been drinking, and was about to derail the conversation when Fen'vhenan quite brilliantly suggested, "I doubt he would give it much thought, Bull."

"So no great stories of the wolf-god facing down a dragon then?" Dorian quipped. "Pity."

Vhen frowned as she started to dish out dinner. "As far as I know Fen'harel has never fought a dragon, though I imagine it would be..." She handed a bowl each to Bull and Dorian, then started laughing.

"What is funny, da'lana?" Solas asked, eyes furrowed low.

"Forgive me, Solas. I just have this visual of the Dread Wolf tricking the dragon into his thrall by simply staring it down," Vhen admitted. "It is amusing me."

Solas had to smile at that. "A staring contest?"

"It would be that or trickery, wouldn't it?" Fen'vhenan suggested with a sigh. "What a thing that would be. Staring a dragon into submission."

"Please don't try that, Vhenan," the elder elf begged. Her only response was an evil grin as she grabbed her own meal. The wolfishness in it was not encouraging.


	3. Words as Weapons

The fact that Fen'vhenan was better at twisting truths than he at times was disconcerting. She had been hiding so much of her past, so much of what her life was, behind half-truths it felt like the world opened up when she finally spoke a portion of the truth.

Solas knew he should have suspected it from the start. She claimed little kinship to her clan and even waited on most of their requests when they came up. Her stories were not common to the clans. Her heart was not truly Dalish; he'd seen that from the very beginning. No, Fen'vhenan was something altogether more interesting and he'd been intrigued by the puzzle up until the moment he unlicked the final key. The answer rushed to him and brought him in a crash to a sitting position. Paintbrush forgotten, he turned his head to just see the elven woman in question engrossed in the pages of one of the books on his table.

His mouth felt dry. "Do you mean to tell me," Solas asked quietly, "that you actually distributed that form of mercy?"

Vhenan continued reading. He could feel the coolness in it, and understood the chilly attitude better. Vhen had few friends, he knew that much, but he'd never imagined her to be hiding this much darkness.

"It's not like I believe Fen'harel or any of them are actually gods Solas," she clarified. "However there is something powerful and ancient there, and I don't mind being bound by it."

That didn't answer his question. Solas knew it, and he was very certain she knew it as well. "Vhenan, have you..." The question was there, and he had to be direct. "...killed in the Dread Wolf's name?"

Fen'vhenan did not have a pretty laugh. It was awkward and uncomfortably cold, never reaching her eyes. "I'm not a nice person, Solas," she noted at the end of the dark chuckle. "I've had a blade in my hand since I was old enough to hold it. My father favored the bow, but I prefer to be more... intimate with my own quarry."

Words left the air. Usually Solas could find something to mitigate the discomfort, or something to question, but this was beyond his abilities to ignore. He wondered if this is how she would feel if he told her the truth, in his round-about way, and decided to avoid it. He couldn't risk her having this sensation.

It was like rocks filling him, water rising up around him.

The bond Vhenan described, the compulsion to follow her path as the Dread Wolf's hand, was not the intention of Fen'harel, but now that she spoke of it it made sense. At first he thought the magic binding him to her was through the anchor, that cursed anchor that was permanently embedded in her instead of within his focus as it should have been. Now he knew it went further. Apparently he had bound an entire family with his request to be his blade to a single young girl centuries ago, during his sleep.

Another mistake. One more mistaken mercy.

"Are you happy Vhenan?" It was a ridiculous question maybe, but to him it was important.

Vhen looked at him strangely. "That is between me and the Dread Wolf," she defended before closing the book. Unfulfilled by that answer, Solas dropped to the floor and walked up to her. His arms wrapped around her, breathing in her scent...

He had promised to consider her. It seemed his heart had made the choice. This was new territory; he had always been the lone wolf- the packless... yet this Wolf-hearted slip of an elf was destined to change him. He was about to speak when her hand slid up, ever so slightly under his shirt, causing him to gasp. Her fingers stopped suddenly, and he peered down to see them entangled in the cord and wolf jaw around his neck.

Could she anticipate him, Solas wondered? Could she accept the truth?

"Yes."

Solas couldn't help the sharp intake of breath. "What?"

"You asked if I am happy," Fen'vhenan reminded. "The answer is yes."

Such a strange thing. He took her hands, now realizing the blood on them. Blood he had stained them with in part. Yet she was happy. And in her own way, she was free.

"You promise?"

"May Fen'harel strike me if I lied."


	4. Take Me to Church

In any clan it would have been a warning: the Dread Wolf has your scent. Yet Fen'vhenan (who was not quite Lavellan) had never viewed it as such. On her sixth nameday her father had taken her to the outskirts of the clan they had been with at the time, where the wolf ward lay, and lightly cut her palm with the dagger she had just started carrying and learning to use. 'The Wolf needs your scent,' he had told her, 'to protect his lethallan.'

As a child she had protested. The Keepers say he is cruel; the clan says he recognizes no kin. And her father had calmed her, explaining that was true only for those who ignored his work. So Fen'vhenan let him press her bleeding palm to the statue and boldly looked the wolf in his stoney eyes before taking a young girl's initiative and setting her dagger before the image.

'My blade is yours,' she had pledged to Fen'harel.

Vhenan had never regretted that day.

Now it was years later and the elven woman stood in the Fens, in front of a true offering place to Fen'harel. She considered the location for several minutes before moving on, concentrating on finding their campsite for the night. She kept the location in mind however and was pleased to find the location for their evening set-up not terribly far away.

Dinner ended quickly, and as usual Solas excused himself to find a suitable place to touch the Fade. Vhenan waited another hour for the campsite to become silent before making the short hike to the small place of offering. There, alone, she would take ease herself.

Kneeling, the Dalish elf curled her arms around herself and spoke softly.

"I know the truth, Fen'harel. The shemlen tried to make me their Herald, a figure of their religion, but I suspected the view was wrong. Now I know. Andraste never picked me, if she's even blessed. And to be honest, I'm the last person anyone would want speaking for them- even you, I suspect. I have no talent for this yet they want me to be their mouthpiece. I can do it- I have to- but I can't help but think of this as another of your tricks." Then, sighing, she stood and set down one of the spare daggers. It wasn't very useful, not next to what she had managed to create with the Inquisition's resources, but the gesture was what mattered. "Ir ma'mi, hahren."

When she turned however, Fen'vhenan found she was not alone. Solas walked up to her, curiosity rampant on his face.

"Abelas, Solas. I imagined myself alone."

Solas continued his approach until he was with her. "I thought you did not worship any as a god," he challenged, recrimination tainting every syllable.

"I don't. That doesn't mean I do not wish to speak with the one I serve. No one can claim to have his ear after all."

Solas shifted uncomfortably. "I..." Then, unexpectedly, he pulled in to kiss her. She found herself quite suddenly pushed to the edge of the offering place, the fluidity of his motion taking her by surprise. When he pulled away he explained, "I hear the voices here from the past. The words are heartfelt as yours, but the answer is empty. Hollow."

Fen'vhenan recovered her mind and looked around. "What would you have me do then, wise one?"

His answer was in the form of another embrace, this one even more demanding. The world shifted, a new set of sensations enveloping the rogue as Solas continued his ministrations until she could stay aloof no more. His answer had been far more than understood by that point. Much later, as they lay together in the aftershock of the moment, Solas turned to her with a strange grin.

"You are thinking," Vhenan accused.

"I was simply considering taking up worship as a regular activity," he mocked. "If you are the focus of adoration I could actually start to believe."

Fen'vhenan laughed at the blasphemous thought; she couldn't help it. After all, she couldn't claim to real belief any more than her companion. "Let's not start our own religion yet. I'm not ready for that."

What his Vhenan could not know is that evening the Dread Wolf had started to undo the mistake of the past. He broke his bond with the bloodline of a troubled child and allowed future generations free choice. It started with the magical energies involved in the curse. Now he just had to change one last thing...

"Ma arlath, ma Vhenan."

~ I love you, MY Vhenan. ~

That seemed to penetrate deeper. In response the female nuzzled into his collar deeply. "Yours," she whispered. "Always."

And just like that, Fen'harel had changed the nature of his bond with this individual as well. This hunter would be free. When he had the courage, he would remove Falon'din's marks from her face and tell her the entire truth about how right she was. Until then, Solas would simply hold her close. After all, she was always his heart.


	5. Dark Horse

Halamshiral was a sweet reminder of the distant past. Vhen had thoroughly dominated the court, to the point none could say she didn't know the Game. Her victory was absolute: Florianne in chains, Gaspard and Briala to face the fate of true traitors. Fen'vhenan knew her smile was painted on, but couldn't help it. It had been a very prosperous albeit long day. And it had ended with the gift of a dance as well.

Maybe being a shemlen mouthpiece wasn't as bad as she'd imagined.

Vhen had just stepped out of the bath when she heard a knock on the door. She quickly wrapped a towel around her body and grabbed her brush to start work on her hair before calling out, "Garas, falon."

When the door creaked open, Fen'vhenan could feel the presence that entered. Briefly, she wondered if Solas ever really believed he could hide from her but that thought only resulted in a snicker she barely concealed. Of course he had thought it possible. His pride was worn prominently, and nearly as obvious as the wolf jaw he had strung around his neck. She may not be sure how it fit, but she definitely knew he was connected with Fen'harel at least as deeply as she. Likely more based on his subtle reactions to her.

When she turned Vhen noticed he was just standing there, head turned away and... was that a blush on Solas' cheeks? Blinking away the wonder she brushed out the last knot in her hair and grabbed the clothing beside her. It was slightly different from her Skyhold fair, mostly in that it was deep brown instead of that awkward beige Josephine insisted on. She threw on the top before letting the towel drop as she assured, "It's moderately safe to turn around now. I'm halfway decent."

Solas did as suggested, heroically keeping his eyes on her face. "I wished to see how you were fairing. My apologies if I interrupted anything."

Vhenan stifled her sigh, afraid if she gave in she would wind up laughing. "Solas. It's fine. Fenedhis, you are the last person I imagined would have an archaic sense of propriety." Then, teasingly, she stretched. The shirt rode up, and his eyes darted down for what was a fraction of a second. It was enough. His composure was shot even as he managed to meet her eyes again. He hesitated, coming in closer and taking her hand instead of talking more. Vhen caught her breath for an instant, panic welling in her breast even as she warmed to him.

"I need you, Vhenan."

The words were sweet, whispered lightly into her ear so quietly she could have missed them even as he was right in front of her. Teasing was one thing, but this was...

"Stop." Her voice was cool, a warning. "Solas, once can be a dalliance- and words spoken in the heat of a moment can be pushed aside." Even if I meant them... she ignored that little thought, focusing on the moment. "But if you... If we... if this happens again I can't let it go. And I can't hide my true nature." She let him have that much of a signal, and she hoped he heard and understand her. From the change in his stance she could tell he had it, and he pulled away. Vhenan would have found herself disappointed if he didn't maintain a firm grasp of her shoulders.

"Show me."

Fen'vhenan didn't wait for another invitation, accepting his request as permission. This time she had no reason to hold back; she pounced with ferocity, completely catching her partner off guard. She felt a brief intention to fight back coming from Solas before he relaxed and returned her advances.

It turned into a game of cat and mouse very quickly, as though both fought for dominance. Vhen was quite resigned to the fact that she would be seeing Josephine in the morning to beg use of some make-up before being presentable. The nips were one thing, but those small burn marks were quite another. In the future a no magic rule would have to be instituted...

When morning dawned, the light shining in through the window, it found Vhenan curled into a very small ball and tucked under Solas' arm. While they were both normally early risers, this light found them both still sound asleep. Even Josephine's unannounced entry didn't disturb either of them, at least not until she returned with a small make-up jar to wake the Inquisitor and help conceal the evidence. Then, wordlessly, Vhenan handed the cover to Solas as well. When he checked the mirror, eyes widening in surprise, Vhen just smiled as Josephine burst into laughter at his expression.

Maybe they would need a few more ground rules than initially intended.


	6. Willingly

Fen'harel remembered Mythal's words to him when he was a young man. She had cautioned against passions of any kind, noting his demeanor would enflame any desire beyond proportion. He had suffered for dismissing her lessons, and the failure ending in Andruil's lunacy had been hard to ignore. That was one of the few times he had paid the price of his own hubris. Vhenan was a surprise, a mortal woman who peeked his interest and drew him out of his self-imposed exile. Her passions burned quietly much like his own, but the spark they created together was dangerous. They could ignite the world with their combined inclinations. Thedas wasn't ready for that. Arlathan wouldn't even be ready for that.

And yet he couldn't help wanting her.

When Vhen entered his rotunda, Solas looked up and couldn't hide a small smile as he greeted her. Today was different though. She didn't respond. Vhen just climbed up on the scaffolding he still had up, hung her legs over the edge, and took in his work almost blankly. This was not his Vhenan. She was either hot as fire or cold as ice, not this blandness he saw. A crumbled paper was curled tightly in her hand; she seemed almost to be wringing it. He crept up beside her, an arm sliding around her shoulders.

"Lavellan was the clan I grew up nearest," she started. "I was taught by their elders, played with their children. They were the ones my father worked for the most- where my mother was from once he said." She took a shuddering breath and leaned into his embrace as her voice dropped. "I sacrificed them today."

Solas felt cold at her admission, at how hollow her words came out. He stiffened by sheer reflex, luckily stopping before he could recoil.

"They were in trouble. I knew they needed help but our soldiers were needed in so many places. So I thought, what is the importance of a single clan anyway. Amongst hundreds? Not so much. So I had Josephine send a messenger instead. I was certain it would fail, but it was a show of faith." She sighed. "I knew. I knew it was the end and I still did it. I... I betrayed my brothers. My sisters. They trusted me, and I still..."

Solas had never before seen Vhenan cry. He held her now as she broke down ever so slightly, a few years leaking while her body shook in his grasp. And he understood. Oh how he understood. It was a feeling he would remember well. The Dread Wolf never went away to gloat, but to mourn what he had been forced to destroy. Now Vhen had that pain in her heart as well. He wanted to soothe her, needed to do anything. He considered, trying to remember any thoughts that had taken the sting, but only one came to mind.

"Did you see another choice?" He kept his voice steady, trying to offer some strength to her.

The tears stopped immediately. The logical part of her mind would be taking over now, considering the options as she debated her path. It was almost a full minute before she answered: "No."

"Then there is nothing to fear."

Vhen sighed loudly. "It still hurts."

Yes. It always would. "I am sorry, da'lana." There was nothing more to say, and she at least seemed under control again. He ran a finger through her red hair and felt her shudder at the touch, leaning in heavily.

Then, in a whisper he nearly didn't hear, Vhen responded. "Thank you, ma'fen."


	7. I Believe in You

It happened in a dream, in the Fade that was so tied to his being it was worn like a second skin. Fen'vhenan had invited him to her dreams at his disposal, allowing him access whenever he chose. Tonight was not about choice or desire. This was about need. Because the veil was finally lifted while in the Temple of Mythal. Now she saw him as he truly was. Who he truly was.

The Fade was a strange place, full of odd meanings. When Solas found her, it was not where he had anticipated- if he had anticipated anything. It was an ancient place, hidden in the darkest place of the forest where none should tread; this place he knew well: the Altar of Fen'harel. Yet in spite of the strangeness his Vhenan sat calmly on the edge of the stone, legs dangling over as she inspected it inquisitively and swung her legs slightly.

"My father knew this place," Fen'vhenan commented as he walked near. "He brought me here, and picked me up to sit right where I am now, and he told me my very first story of the Dread Wolf. Do you know know what he said, ma'fen?"

Solas shook his head, adding, "I couldn't even guess da'lana."

Vhenan had a lovely voice when she lent it to tales. Now she raised it slightly and began her explanation. "Arlathan had many wonders, each greater than the last, but they were built on the backs of the people. The Creators were cruel taskmasters, with whips and iron wills. The people hurt and cried, but could not help but submit. Until one day one of the youngest of the taskmasters opened his eyes and saw their pain. Fen'harel.

"Fen'harel chose that day to have no slaves, to keep none as his supplicants. He saw that if they kept pushing the slaves down then it would create a rebellion, but none would listen. So he pledged that day to never forget that actions have consequences, that nothing was given for free. He promised to bring mercy to those in need, but ensure they remembered the price."

By this point Solas had approached and pressed against her, taking a hand in each of his and pushing her down. Her back hit the cold stone, a gasp shuddering through as she fought to sit up again.

"Is it still true that you take no slaves, Fen'harel?"

It was the first time she had spoken the name to him, addressing him. He leaned up and let her have the moment, this one win. "It is true," he assured. "I need no servant, but an equal... That might be a nice change." He pushed once again claiming her mouth with a kiss.

"Hmm. How can I equal you, with your history and your power, ma'Harellan?"

"Because you are my heart, da'lana." His hands sought her hair, running through the silkiness as he considered the next step. "But it will mean we have separate paths. You will always be the Inquisitor."

"And you will always be Fen'harel." Vhenan frowned, but nodded. "Just promise me this isn't a joke, or one of your tricks. I couldn't bear it."

"This is no trick." When he wrapped his arms around her, pulling them both up, his next words echoed. "What we have is real."


	8. Shot in the Dark

Twang. Thwack. An old bird's nest crashes to the ground. "Fenedhis."

Twang. Squeek. An inquisitive squirrel meets its end with a black-fletched arrow of raven feathers embedded in it. "Fenedhis LASA!"

Twang. Clang. The next arrow uselessly hits the side of the building, crashing against the stone. "Kaffas!"

"That one is new, is it not Inquisitor?"

Fen'vhenan turned to see the very object of her displeasure just at the edge of the stairway to her makeshift range. She wasn't completely hopeless with the bow, even if her talents lay elsewhere. Target practice was something she usually enjoyed, an activity that calmed and interested her, taking her mind off the world. Today it was failing. Miserably.

"Go away, Harellan." Her words were not lacking in venom or warning; even so, he approached. Vhen just knocked another arrow and kept her focus on the target. She imagined it as him- as Solas. Her elbow lifted, the strength in her arm drawing back until she exhaled and released at once.

"Isn't that a little high and to the right?"

Vhenan huffed. "It hit my desired location."

"What..? Oh." Her elvhen companion went silent at that comment. "Abelas. I didn't mean..."

"You didn't mean a lot of things. I was a game to you. Harellan tel'abelas." Angrily, Vhenan grabbed another arrow, drawing on a strong sense of will and pain. She felt a sudden surge, a bitter hurt that soaked through and made her loose it early; the arrow slipped skyward rather than forward and she slunk to the ground as Solas rushed forward. "Don't."

Vhen refused to look up and see the sympathy or concern, and feared she would see only passive interest. No- that was a lie. She knew there had been more to them than that.

"But Inquisitor..."

"I would have followed you anywhere," Vhenan interrupted quietly. "After we defeat Corypheus, when my work could be over, I would have stayed at your side. But you refuse me, Fen'harel. You demand loneliness in spite of seeking your equal..." She devolved into coldness at that point. "I see now what you want from me. What you really want."

Solas shook his head, taking her chin and tipping her head to where she was forced to look at him. "I would have kept my identity hidden because of this. Knowing what you are... all it does is complicate things."

Vhenan forced a smile. "I thought I was your heart, ma'fen, but it seems that was not to be." She had the lightest beginnings of tears welling in her eyes now. "I... I have to try. To go where you lead. I owe you that much."

"I will not risk you, Inquisitor. Not when there is so much more to be done."

"I will still do so."

There was nothing else for it. "Then I am sorry Vhenan," he apologized, calling her by name one last time. Then he let the magic course, the connection to the Fade pull at him. She looked up confused, hurt. No more. "You should never have known who I am. Keep our memories, our love, but this knowledge, our bond... You must forget."

As his voice wavered with the charge and Vhen slunk unconscious in his arms, Solas finally heard the weighty clunk as her magic-propelled arrow found the ground. It didn't feel like it hit nothing- it felt like it was embedded in his heart.


	9. Love Remains the Same

It had been days since they had separated, days since Solas had made the hard choice for both of them. It felt harder than it should have been. He'd taken away her knowledge of who he was for her safety; regardless of how strong the temptation may be, he couldn't take the chance that she would follow when he left. Not when the road was so long and uncertain. She was the Inquisitor. Her path led away from him, and he feared it always would.

When she passed his door, Vhenan had a different look in her eye. In part it was the cold preparedness he had anticipated and aimed for, but something else lurked behind her expression. He couldn't quite place it, but felt embarrassed to have created it in her. Perhaps he should have given more thought to breaking the heart of a Dalish assassin.

No. Not Dalish. Her words and actions proved her mind was more elvhen.

Solas remained deep in contemplation, trying to work on the paintings he had dedicated time to creating, when the voices upstairs became slightly elevated and forceful. Finally, he couldn't ignore the duo as phrases wafted down clearly.

"I'm sure he didn't mean..."

"He meant it Dorian." Fen'vhenan spoke with such sadness, such disdain, that it cut through even as quietly as it came down the stairs. "You weren't there; he knew what he was doing."

"Another brandy then?"

"Dorian..."

"Go on. If you get too smashed I can curl you up in bed here or carry you back."

The conversation cut in further. He was hurt both by the cool tone, and the fact that she seemed to be moving on. Solas was compelled to slide up the stairs, careful to remain quiet and unseen. He saw her sitting in the plush library chair, Dorian leaning against the arm pouring the liquor. Vhen sipped slowly, mumbling lightly. "I shouldn't be doing this you realize. Not with anyone."

"Come now soras, I'm the safest of people with whom to get rip-roaring drunk." The Tevinter laughed as he patted her arm and sipped from his own glass. "Just try to relax. You deserve a bit of happiness before the world come crashing down on us all."

"I think happiness is a stretch at this point, lethallin."

"Comfort then. I could lend you Bull if you prefer."

When she laughed with Dorian it was pretty, like the tinkling of bells. It was strange how different it sounded and he almost could have thought her truly happy here except the stiffness in her posture. It seemed some things would never dissipate.

Vhenan had reminded Solas of everything he thought lost to him. When he was sure the end of his story was near he had to meet her, this little slip of a hunter that pulled him in the opposite direction. He watched as she sipped her drink, looking at her companion glassily and smiling.

"Dorian Pavus, if you were a different man I would ravish you right now. Alas, I lack the equipment to make it pleasant for both of us, so I fear I must decline any such offers."

Dorian met her slow chuckle with his own raised eyebrows. "I admit the ears would make it different enough. If only you were a male."

"To my momentary regret I am all woman, lethallin. Such a pity."

The Tevinter mage downed the last part of his drink and looked to his elf companion with a chuckle. In the matter of a few seconds she had apparently passed out, the alcohol finally catching up. She had a high tolerance, concerning Solas with the amount she must have been drinking. The other mage didn't seem to share the same worry, simply picking her up and balancing the small elf over his shoulder. Solas slid out of the way and tried to look nonchalantly stuck in a book when the Tevinter passed through. But he heard the skid and turned to see Dorian standing over, Vhenan still over his shoulder and glaring harshly.

"Can I help you?"

"I have a drunk Dalish girl. And it is completely your fault."

"I didn't force her to drink," Solas tried to point out.

"Didn't you? If you believe yourself blameless in this you are completely lacking in humanity. Elfhenity. Whatever your people would call it." With a sly smile, Dorian borrowed a word from Sera. "Elfiness perhaps?" It made Solas cringe just hearing the descriptor, but he looked at the image of his love completely powerless and undone, and he realized that yes this WAS his fault.

"The end of the world seemed ill-suited to romance," he defended carelessly, turning back to his book.

Dorian snorted in disbelief. "Do you honestly believe that? Let me ask this: if Corypheus attacks tomorrow and our grand Inquisitor defeats him by allowing him to kill her, how will you feel about your actions?"

Solas felt chilled. Surely not. "That wouldn't happen."

"It happened in Haven, or nearly did," Dorian pointed out, merciless in his attack. "If she's the only one able to defeat him, and she gives her all to that, could you accept the consequences?"

No. "Of course." Not.

"That's what I thought." Dorian sighed and set Fen'vhenan on the couch in the center of the room. Something in the young altus' demeanor showed he had heard the words Solas had left unsaid in a desperate attempt to convince himself this was right. "It would be more proper for you to watch over her tonight I think."

Alone with Vhen, Solas couldn't ignore his own thoughts anymore. He tried to read, anything to distract, but she was there and so very... Vhen. Even fast asleep. He gave up on his book right now, settling for watching her quietly.

So much more left to do, to say. He was struck by the idea that this would not be their ending- not here. This was the beginning of another story to span generations, a love that would remain unchanging. And if she did happen to fall, he would seek her out and drag her back willing or no...

Fen'harel would always be the further of the elvhen from divinity, and even the greatest of the gods could never live without his heart.


	10. Call Your Name

Leaving wasn't supposed to be so hard.

Fen'harel set his wards for the evening, preparing to sleep a while after the trying day. He had finally committed the crime of which he was originally accused- killing Mythal, taking her power, was the second most painful thing he had ever done. It had been necessary. He wasn't sure anymore if taking Vhen's memories had been.

"Ir abelas. Ar lath ma, Vhenan. Bellanaris." The words had become a part of his nightly ritual, as surely as anything else. ~ I'm sorry. I love you, my heart. Forever. ~

Had she been anyone else it would have been easier. If the Inquisitor had been a qunari, or a dwarf, or a human - or even one of the angrier Dalish, bred to accept myth as truth- he could have left with impunity. He wouldn't have had such a hard time refraining from telling his stories, or explaining how the orb had been his. But then he wouldn't have known her.

He hoped she could still sense his motives. And maybe, somehow, she would understand.

\- perspective -

Being left behind shouldn't be so easy.

Fen'vhenan was only upset about her lost memories, or would have been except for Cole. The youthful spirit of compassion had felt her hurt and found her in her quarters when she was alone and still, approaching her for once.

"He had to leave but took the explanation away. He made it hurt when it doesn't have to. Do you want it back?"

And she had nodded, the next minute a flood of information and moments she should have never left behind. These were her memories, her little treasures. They were not meant to be tampered with. She cried with pain for reliving them and joy at reclaiming herself.

"You reach out in compassion..." Fen'vhenan shuddered at her brief memory. "You don't know where he is, do you?"

Cole shook his head sadly. Vhen gave a sigh and crashed onto her bed.

"I don't understand. You said it would help but it seems to hurt more now."

"Sometimes feelings are like a wound that festered or a bone set badly," Vhen explained. "You have to open the hurt to let it heal. Do you understand?"

Cole nodded. "So I helped?"

"Yes Cole. You helped."

Her visitor disappeared again, and Vhen went to her balcony. She looked out, leaning on the edge. "Ma'serannas, Fen'harel, for the time we shared. One day I will find you again."

She had spoken the same words each night since then, hoping her gratitude and need might reach him and bring them together again- when the time was right.


	11. Sweet Dreams

Dreams were a strange thing to Fen'vhenan. She had never spent overmuch time in the Fade before her relationship with the apostate known as Solas, and not being a mage she didn't have the lucid control some of her companions boasted. Yet something about that had changed just after that fateful night by the waterfall; without the gift of her memories from Cole she might never have quite understood. Apparently the magic stricken from her family line had been returned; she would never control it with precision, but it seemed to give her the most interesting relationship with the Fade...

For example, it seemed to light her up like a beacon for demons. That was becoming fairly obvious, at least to her. She also seemed to have control of her dreams and what they showed- meaning said demons were constantly having to remain hidden lest she change the scene and confound them. It was a protection she had never expected and had to wonder if it was her own mind or a part of Fen'harel that had carried over with the power. Either way she was thankful.

This time was different. She was alone and frightened when sleep took her and all she wanted was an escape. She immediately provided one, remembering her happiest time with Solas...

Solas himself had finished the day and slid into the Fade, for once choosing to let himself wander. He found himself drawn to a thought, a memory, a time he had been truly happy. It was a pure thing and he relaxed- this, he felt, was his own corner of the Fade...

Vhen was laying on the couch in the rotunda, reading while Solas worked on the paintings. She sighed, having trouble with some of the elvhen words; this was an old text, entirely in the mostly lost language. She wrinkled her nose a few times on a page before sounding out the phrase.

"Through many wars I have traveled, and much have I seen, but still the hardest thing is the ghostly sense of the tiniest legs upon my arms," Solas translated for her.

Vhenan went quiet for a moment. She caught the snicker, the one that gave away his gave ever so slightly. Then, accusing, she glared up at him. "You are tricking me, aren't you?"

Solas chuckled at the insinuation. She closed the book and sighed, loudly.

"Maybe."

"How am I to learn if you give me false translations, hahren?" Vhenan asked, setting the book down on the floor gently with many others. Solas put the brushes down and came next to her, sitting down at the opposite end.

"We also need to know how to conquer our fears Vhenan." Solas moved her around, lifting her feet onto his lap. Like so many Dalish, she chose to go barefoot when possible- leaving her feet exposed. "Tell me Vhen, how did you end up with such a fascinatingly strong fear of spiders?"

The young woman leaned heavily on the arm rest of the furnishing, a light pout on her face.

When this moment had happened after Adamant, Fen'vhenan had known the question would be coming my from somewhere. She had actually suspected Dorian might be the source, or Cassandra- one of her two best friends, the confidants she spoke to daily. Yet it was Solas, the still slightly awkward relationship proving stronger than either of her other confidants.

And she had lied. Not this time...

Solas expected the story he'd heard by now a dozen times, explaining about the sac of baby spiders that had hatched in the bottom of her sleeping roll as a child. It was his memory after all, his place to hide. After she had said it he had mercilessly tickled this little feet, delighting in her squid and uncharacteristic break into raucous laughter...

Instead he heard a very loud sigh and the cooler tone Vhen had prefered to strong emotions. "My father was going through a cave with me when I was twelve. I'd just earned my valleslin and the clan we had been with no longer needed aide. We were seeking the next one which was said to be nearby when we were surrounded by spiders. Those giant ones. I was slicing through, but they got past and..." A single tear slid down. "That was how I lost my father, Solas. Spiders."

He looked at her, wide-eyed. He shouldn't be hearing that, knowing what she hadn't said. "I'm... sorry."

Vhenan turned, looking. "I've always wondered what would have happened. If I had told you I knew NOW, told the truth now, would things have been different?" She sat up, a hand brushing his cheek. This made no sense! "How would you have reacted if I had reached for you like this and said 'Ar lath na, Fen'harel'?"

Solas stiffened. She had... How could she... Then he felt the strangeness, the oddity. This was a bonded dream, shared by two so close they could hardly help but share when their minds were in accord. "Vhenan..."

The female reached again, silencing him with a kiss. "Whatever you would say, don't." She kissed again, deeper.

Solas broke the embrace, forcefully. "I'm here, da'lana."

Fen'vhenan actually laughed, musical and bright. "This is better than usual."

She shook her head, then closed her eyes. "If you are him, you should be able to follow me to where we danced in the moonlight."

Solas was about to talk, to protest, when he felt the unwelcome visitor to the Fade push. It was a corrupted spirit, a demon of pride. He saw it, fearful at its presence until Vhen glared at it. "That is new," was her only comment as she sent a sharp blast of lightening and wiped the scene with her hand.

The demon was gone, leaving her and Solas alone on a balcony in Orlais. They leaned against the rail together, silence the only sound for over a minute before Vhen gasped, reality catching up to her.

"So. It's you."

"It is."

"Of course it's actually you, now." She turned fully, pulling up so she sat on the railing. "You should have stuck around; you could've gotten your wish to see my focus dominated."

"What do you mean?"

Vhen heard the concern and dismissed it. "I have my own path. That is what you wanted- a partner who could stand on their own. It would appear that my path is a bit more dicey than anticipated. I would have liked you by my side, but since that is impossible..." She shrugged. "On the plus side I have found an enemy worth my time."

"Vhenan..."

"You wanted me to let you be, you have to trust me as well."

The warning was duly noted. "I am sorry if you are still angry."

"It isn't anger, Solas. I just wish you had trusted me." With that said, Vhenan pulled from the Fade with a small echo. "Try not to worry, and I will do the same."

The promise was pointless. Worrying was inevitable- but he would at least try.


	12. Send Me a Song

"Are you sure about this, Wolfy?"

Fen'vhenan nodded as she handed the manuscript to Varric. "Take it to your publishers when you feel it's ready. I only ask that you keep the last tale perfectly in tact."

The dwarven writer shrugged. "I won't need to touch a thing. Your stories are almost as good as mine, and the elven audience will probably think them better. I just don't understand you writing it down after all this time."

"My reasons are my own business, Varric." She had a sad smile on her face, and a whimpering sigh in her voice. "That's all I want to say about it."

"At least let me put your name on the book..."

"No. Use a pen name. This needs to be between friends."

What Vhen didn't mention is that the only one she was trying to reach would understand. The stories she had written were for HIM- they corrected some of the most common stories of the elves, adding a flair of skepticism Solas (no, Fen'harel) would appreciate. The last one though was more obvious...

"If you insist, Wolfy."

Vhenan would have thought Varric of all people would recognize a love letter.

\- Weeks later, in a random town -

Solas had been traveling for a long time on his own, going by the name Nadas to aide in hiding from the Inquisition agents. Nadas, to remind him that even without his pride he still had a duty to finish. He found it easy enough, traveling light and swift. Being on his own again was what felt strange. Over the months since their dream Solas had heard many possible things about the Inquisition- the most disturbing being that this Inquisitor had met the same end as the last.

It was as he stopped in a town for supplies he solidified which rumors were true. Varric Tethras has written another book, the gossips said. He has truly outdone himself and expanded to elf audiences. More interesting was that he had a partner now. Apparently Revasaha Mahariel was an elven poet who was aiding Master Tethras, and had expanded the appeal. Mahariel was a dead clan, only one member remaining and she was no longer amongst the Dalish herself. So who was Revasha? There was only one person he knew who could write as Tethras did, who told stories to equal the dwarf. It meant she was still there, that the worst had not found her.

Against his better judgement, Solas acquired a copy.

The stories were what most would call fractured folklore, retellings of old stories from both dwarven and elven societies. They were stylized to legendary proportions, the wording specifically chosen to cast doubt on the material. It was subtle, but the message was clear: this is a tale, not a history, so keep its weight light. It was brilliant and beautiful. And how he recognized the voice in the old Dalish tales, the mocking tone that asked if these were really their creators.

Then he found the final tale...

~ There was a woman who was left alone in the woods as a young child. Alone and abandoned, she was wandering for days before being caught in a trap meant for a wolf... ~

It couldn't possibly be. Yet as he read, growing more unbalanced, Solas found the message in this one different. Most would see it as a fiction with a strange base- not quite elvhen in origin, but neither human nor dwarf either. There were only two people in Thedas who would see beyond the surface.

~ I know everything, Fen'harel. I truly forgive you. I still love you. I'm still alive, and I miss you. ~

The message was clear to him, and it eased his fears. Breathing more easily, Solas returned to preparing for the next stage of his own journey. He knew she trusted him to do his duty, and he would keep faith that she could persevere through hers. And at the end, maybe they would meet again.

\- Final A/N -

I want to thank you readers for your enjoyment and following! I will be following a suggestion I received to continue with a story set after this. Keep an eye out for the follow up featuring Lavellan and Dorian fun...

~N.B.


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